


you won't be lonely when it's over

by orphan_account



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Romance, Betrayal, Billy Hargrove Deserves Better, Child Abuse, Dark, Denial of Feelings, Deviates From Canon, Drama, Drama & Romance, Eventual Smut, Homophobic Language, Hurt Billy Hargrove, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Obsession, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Season/Series 03, Probably Melodramatic, Violence, different timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-02 11:22:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20275093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Billy is obsessed with Steve Harrington while Steve plays hot and cold on him. Billy deals with trauma from his abusive home life. This story is dark from the start.





	1. Chapter 1

Billy exhales smoke into a cold sun-set evening. It curls out in front of him, hazy and dirty-sweet, the air sharp and biting at his skin. He suppresses an urge to breathe on his hands, to rub life back into the numb fingertips. Instead, he just takes another long drag, leaning heavily against his Camaro.

_Frigid as a bitch out here._

The late autumn landscape at the side of the deserted road is glass-crisp. A sparkling dust of snow envelops everything. The sun has almost completely slipped behind the jagged treeline, wringing light out of the horizon. As it sets, so does Billy's heart. With each second it seems to slip lower and lower into his chest until it settles nastily into his belly._ He'll be the fucking end of you if you don't let that shit go._ But his heart has his memories in a stranglehold, wrangling them up from the dark, deep wells of him. _His_ husky laugh grazes Billy even now. _His_ brown eyes widening as Billy kisses him needily on his soft belly._ His_ slim wrists strong and lithe under Billy’s palms. 

_Steve Harrington..the fucking bane of my existence._

Billy almost chokes on the sardonic laughter rising bile-like in his throat. Harrington was a fucking succubus. Coming to him every night in his dreams, milking whatever he had left of his soul dry, leaving him hollowed out and wasted. Famished visions of him, smiling under pretty lashes; his warm hands on Billy’s open mouth, his sweat-slick chest, his eager cock.

_Fucking slut._

The words ring out comically in Billy’s own head but he spits them out anyways. _Slut. Whore._ Fast, stinging tears well up in his eyes, and he snaps them shut. He was such a fucking idiot. He had fucked up, letting Steve Harrington touch him when his mere presence made him weak. Billy didn't know when to stop; how to. Harrington had moved in and out of his life like quicksilver, slippery and seductive. Shimmering and perfect.

Billy crushes his cigarette butt under his boot heel. Enough is enough.Tonight's the last night he'd ever shed a tear for that asshole. For anyone.

But as he leans back in his carseat, body sore and tired- from what?- he knows in his bones it's a lie. Harrington’s aftertaste is on Billy, thick and lingering; a heady ambrosia that ends on the bitterest note. Billy's still drunk on him, craving the next sip, the next inhale of his clean scent, the next _anything._

Just as long as it's _Steve._  
  
  
  
*********  
Home never feels like home.

Billy exits his Camaro, shutting the door lightly as possible, staring at his house with a hard gaze that could rival a jaded war veteran. Billy can’t seem to settle into his legs. His consciousness is somewhere above his body, floating balloon-like over his head.

_He’s gonna be fucking pissed._

Billy takes his time. He pulls a cigarette out of his leather jacket, his heartbeat stabilizing at the familiarity of the motion, at the sound of flame eating paper. He’s so late that another five minutes wouldn’t make a difference anyway. He’s prepared for battle; expects it. Accepts it. Every day is an exploration of how far he can push the limit until he’s destroyed, again and again.

Maybe one day he would shatter permanently.

When he opens the front door, it’s with the gentlest twist. There’s a soft hope of not being caught. A delusional hope, but it’s always there, disturbing in its innocence. Maybe he won’t be seen. Maybe this will be one of those exquisite rare times when Neil ignores him completely. The yelling starts before the door is even fully open.

“Where the _hell_ were you!” Neil’s red face appears from behind the door like a demonic entity. Billy tries to inhale but his breath catches in his throat painfully.

“I got...caught up.” He starts to walk past him, as though that were an actual possibility right now, but Neils’ hand is fisting up his collar within seconds, his eyes inches from Billy’s. Pissed is an understatement.

“I told you to never fucking skip dinner.” Neil slurs. Billy’s nose quickly picks up the ethanol smell of gin. _Great. It’s gonna be one of **those** nights. _His body stiffens as though Neil’s fists are already landing .

“I’m sorry.” Billy surrenders quickly, already exhausted. “I’m _sorry_.” Why fight back? Why bother? It always ends the same. Him bleeding on his bed, shaking like a goddamn bitch. Neil’s grip only tightens. He’s not going to get away that easily. It’s lights out tonight.

“Sorry? Sorry! You think that’s enough, you fucking faggot?” Neil’s nostrils flare, spittle forming around the corners of his thin lips. “Do you think that’s enough for Susan? You don’t think she’s tired of you disrespecting her, of your bullshit?”

Billy’s eyes scan behind Neil’s shoulder. Of course Susan’s there, hovering around the corner of the room like a ghost. Here but not here. Seeing everything and doing nothing. He accepts it, assumes she’s also just too exhausted to fight back. She was fragile to begin with.

“It won’t happen again”, He lies. They were going through their usual routine now. Billy pretending to be a better son. Neil crushing him no matter what he says.

“You’re a fucking waste of space, you know that?”

Billy nods slowly, trying his best to maintain eye contact, though the tears sting at the back of his eyeballs like they always do._Don’t be a bitch. Don’t be a bitch. Don’t be a bitch._ Last time he cried in front of Neil he got the worst beating of his life.

“Answer me when I talk to you!” The first slap comes, and it’s nothing. The briefest sting. BIlly holds his gaze firm, steeling himself for the inevitable damage to come. This was just a tease, a subtle opening act.

“Yes sir.”

Neil slaps him again, a little harder. “What the fuck are you?” His voice unfurls slowly like a poisonous fume.

Billy swallows but there’s no moisture. “A waste of space.”

“Exactly. I don’t even want to know who’s dick you’ve been sucking instead of showing up for dinner like a goddamn normal son.”

“_Jesus_, I was just getting some air.”

Billy’s always taken off guard by the first punch and this time is no different. Right in the gut, mashing into his organs like a freight train. Billy appreciates how Neil never bruises him above the neck. Neil’s smart that way. He almost respects him for that.

“Don’t fucking talk back to me.” Neil’s eyes are relentlessly cold and glassy, but his hands are always searing. Like the warmth in his body only gathers around his fists.

“Yes sir.” he manages to choke out before another blow hits him.

The rest of the beating comes in a merciful haze. He’s watching it from above, doing that floating thing that seems to happen more and more lately. He’s grateful for it, though it’s starting to seep into all areas of his life now. An incessant numbness, an anesthetic that doesn't wear off.This is why Steve Harrington is such a cruel surprise, a painfully shocking burst of color in an otherwise gray world. At first he thought the colors were spectacular, a vivid display of fireworks that made him feel awake, alive. Now they’re a grotesque bruise on his insides, matching the bloom that’s already starting to form on his skin.

Billy wants to go back to gray. The gray is manageable, the numb relief he needs. When he lies on his bed tonight, he lets the numbness wash over him, a familiar shell. Safety. Solace. A strange peace that envelops all unease in a colorless void. He wants it to block out Steve, his own aching body, his entire life. _I don’t exist, nothing is here, nothing matters._

When he finally drifts off to sleep, the bruises on his body have half- blossomed, and Steve Harrington’s face appears like a mirage in front of him, like every other night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I took liberties with the layout of Billy's room in this chapter.

Billy wakes to the sound of tapping at his window. 

He jolts upright, heart pounding, a sudden ache hitting him square in his gut. He clasps where his pulse beats sharply in his stomach, and stares at the glass where a shadow lies.

He’d recognize the shape of that damn hair from a mile away.

_ Harrington. _

Another light tap and Billy gnaws at his bottom lip while his hands clench into tight fists. What the hell is Steve doing here at this goddamn hour? Also, how the _ fuck _ does Steve know where he lives?

Unmoving, breath held, Billy’s vexed about bringing Steve into the current misery of his life, into the dark ink of his mind. In fact, he's _ pissed _ . He didn’t want Steve to see him like this. Tired, throbbing with pain, and _ starved _..and not just for food.

However, Billy knows he needs to open the window to silence the incessant rapping. Neil wouldn’t be exactly thrilled at the sight of this. Billy throws back his covers, stalks to the glass, unlatching it with a gentle, quiet touch. It’s an annoying contrast to the rage that’s building in his blood. He carefully pushes the window up, revealing Harrington’s earnest face inch by inch. He breathes in hard when their gazes meet, an electricity sparking within him at the sight of Steve's soft mouth and eyes.

“What the _ fuck _are you doing here?” Billy whispers past closed teeth, eyes scanning over Steve furiously. Steve's wearing a jean jacket that's probably too light for the weather, still has that somber look on his face. Billy’s trying to simultaneously read him and find the perfect words to pierce him through his stupid, fickle heart.

“Can we talk?” Steve’s fingers are in his thick, dark hair; nervously digging in.

“Lower your _ fucking _voice.” Billy roughly pulls on his jacket and boots, climbs out the window, dropping himself onto the frosted grass til he’s eye-level with Steve. He motions to him, mouth in a tight scowl, leading him out to the end of his driveway. They stand behind Billy’s Camaro, a few feet apart; streetlight casting them both in a yellow glow. Billy’s still in his jeans from the night before, shirtless under his leather, his breath emerging misty-white from his mouth. He instinctively reaches in his jacket for a cigarette, needing something to distract himself from the burning desire to crush Steve’s bones into the pavement. 

“How the hell did you find me, Harrington?” Billy says with a fake smile. He lights up, talking through the side of his mouth. “You and Johnny-boy been hanging out? Learned some fucking stalker moves or somethin’?" He snaps his zippo-lighter shut in punctuation. "That’s _ cute." _

Steve’s not listening. He’s grimacing at the purple-red stains on Billy’s torso. “What the _ fuck _happened to you, man? Jesus Christ.”

Billy shrugs, doesn't answer, blowing smoke straight up into the air. 

Steve reaches out to touch the tender welts but Billy catches Steve’s wrist in a crushing grip. “_Don’t.” _ His tone is lethal, fingers tightening. “You owe me an explanation, Harrington. You came here for a reason, didn’t you? Waking me up at _ god knows _what hour. Let’s not forget our fucking manners.” He flings Steve’s hand away like it's trash.

“Calm _ down, _ man. Jesus." Steve shakes sensation back into his hand. "Look, I just came here to talk about...what happened. With us.” 

Billy nods impatiently, sucking at filter. “Yeah, whatever. Look, it’s _ nothing _, okay? We did some stuff, had a few chuckles. Not a big deal.” 

Steve’s shakes his head, eyebrows knitted. “No, It _ was _ a fucking big deal okay. If anyone found out- I mean. It’s not-it’s not _ normal _.”

“Yeah, Harrington, I know. That’s what you said three weeks ago before you disappeared.”

“Well, I meant it. It's fucking wrong. So wrong. Like, don't you feel weird about it? You haven’t done that shit before, right?”

Billy laughs, but it’s not pleasant. He can't believe how naive Steve is. “_Plenty _of times, Harrington. You really couldn’t tell? Fuckin' walk in the park, man. Feels right as rain to me.” 

“Well, it isn’t _ me _.”

Billy grins so harsh that it makes Steve take a step back. “Oh _ no _ , pretty boy. I think it _ really _ is. It ain’t like it was just once. Not like you just had a taste and decided it wasn’t _ quite _ your palate. _ No, _ you kept coming back for _ more _ , like my car was your fuckin’ hotel room. You made yourself feel right at home.” Billy’s gaze scans hungrily down Steve’s body. “Left _ such _ a _ mess _in the back seat too..”

Steve swallows weakly, voice cracking. "It was a mistake, okay? A big mistake. I can’t shake it, man. It’s eating me alive.” He looks genuinely distraught and Billy luxuriates in it, triumphant.

“Is that _ so _?” Billy’s eyes flare up, mouth in a wry twist. “What, can’t get it up for your girl anymore? You leaving little Nancy all high and dry?”

“No!” Steve scoffs.”What are you fucking talking about-I mean-”

“It’s _ okay _, Harrington.” Billy’s gloating, taking another deep drag. "I won't tattle. ”

Steve opens and closes his mouth; has nothing. "Shut _up_, man."

"Aw, poor _ baby _ ." Billy’s oozing smug satisfaction . “I _ really _ ruined you didn’t I? You come all the way out here, in the _ middle _of the fucking night, to just...what?” Billy gestures a hand in the air. “-let me know that dick isn’t your cup of tea? No. You’re here for something more than a goddamn therapy session.”

Steve can’t make eye contact, shakes his head at a tree. “Man, that’s _ so _ not it. You just...seemed upset. More pissed than I’ve ever seen you, which is _ really _ saying a lot.” He gives Billy a challenging look.”It's like I actually hurt your feelings or something.” 

Billy snorts. “Nah Harrington.” He exhales thick smoke into Steve’s face; makes him flinch nicely. “I _got_ options . A goddamn _line-up_. And it’s _all _the same to me. You on the other hand?” He crushes his cigarette under his heel.”You’re gonna be thinking about my cock everyday of your life_._”

Steve is speechless, mouth parted. 

Billy continues, taking a step forward, words dripping sweet syrup..“Don’t worry about me, man. In fact, I’d _ really _ start worrying about _ you _ . If I were you, I’d start asking myself _ why _ I’m knocking on windows in the dark like a fucking ghost. _ Why _ I can’t stop thinking about something that _ isn’t me _. Your words don’t match your actions, Harrington.”

Steve’s face is red. Billy can practically feel the rush of heat coming off him.

“Fucking Hell, man. Just stop it, okay? I just wanted to see if you were alright. You know, check in...like..like a _ friend. _” 

Billy stiffens, face hardening into an ugly glare that knifes into Steve’s eyeballs; takes another step forward. “_ A friend? _.” The word leaves a nasty taste in his mouth.

Steve nods, like this was somehow going to be a reasonable suggestion for Billy. “Yeah man, seems like you could use one. A real one.” 

Billy’s smile is murderous. “You’re delusional, Harrington.” He turns sharp on his heel and starts striding towards his house.

Steve’s immediately on his heels. “What, we’re just supposed to hate each other?” He grasps Billy’s shoulder, tries to stop him..

Billy’s shrugs him off, keeps walking.“Yeah man, it really is that simple. Fuck off.” 

Steve touches him again and Billy spins around, seizes his forearm in a hold that’s going to hurt later. “Get. The _ fuck _ . Away from me.” He shoves Steve _ hard _onto asphalt and he lands in a painful twist, palms scraping open upon impact. Billy stands over him, adrenaline rushing, a sick leer on his face. “Funny how it always ends up this way, isn’t it?”

Steve pushes himself up, hands already oozing small pricks of blood., “You know what, you're fucking right.” He’s on his feet, stumbling. “_ Fuck _ this shit. Don’t know what I was thinking. Nobody’s ever been a friend in your life. Know why? Cause you’re a fucking _ psychopath. _”

Billy’s nostrils flare. “You know how this ends, Harrington. Don’t push it.” He pauses. “Though gotta admit, I really miss seeing that pretty face gush blood."

Steve has his hands up, starts backing away, eyes wary. “I’m gone, Hargrove. I’m fucking gone, alright?” He turns, retreats down the driveway, throwing up his collar against the chill.

“Good.” Billy snarls, watching as Steve disappears into the night.”Don’t fucking come back. I won’t be so nice next time.”

He stands there alone in the driveway for a minute, breathing hard. He's suddenly aware of the temperature, how he can't feel his toes, how goddamn sore he is. He makes his way back to his room, pulling himself up through his window, almost falling on the floor before he catches himself. He closes the window behind him, climbs onto his bed without bothering to remove his shoes. Doesn’t do anything except feel his heart race and the numb ache of his fingers thawing. He stares at the ceiling till sunlight streams into his room.

He won't get much sleep for awhile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first shot at writing this pairing and it's fun as hell. I'm probably exploring pretty well-trod territory at this point but I really wanted to try Harringrove out. This be a spicy combo. 
> 
> This fic is probably gonna get buried, but what do y'all think?


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